


The Future That's Past

by Capucine



Category: DCU (Animated), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Rape, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bart Allen, aka Impulse, has never truly faced his past. When Barry Allen, his grandpa, confronts him on it, he may realize that he is not as peachy as he might like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it. There is a mention of underage rape, though it's not violent, and it might be a little triggering for someone with violence-caused PTSD (like me). And lol, leave it to me to make it really angsty.
> 
> Also, it seems to be canon that Bart's personality as Impulse is a facade. I decided to run with that.

Bart came from a horrible place.

This is something he recognized almost instantly upon entering the past, something he knew from reading the textbooks... but that was head knowledge.

He didn't accept that he'd been put through hell before being here for a while, before finally being able to see what a _family_ was like, what not living in constant fear was like.

It had been one of those days when he realized just how different he was from his family, his grandpa and Wally and the rest.

He'd been busily going through Wally's phone (had to keep up the annoying prankster persona), going through mostly kitten pictures. They were extremely adorable compared to the bedraggled strays that populated his earth. It was still strange to him that people _pampered_ these pets. He could see keeping a dog, as protection, but a cat? A cat was useless.

Bart tilted his head at one particularly cute shot, a kitten giving the camera a face like it needed... whatever it was kittens needed. Milk or something. Big, sad eyes.

He laughed a little. He'd never seen a kitten look quite like that. Usually, they were starving little things that someone put out of their misery—and sometimes into dinner, though full-grown cats were preferred.

Thoughts of starving brought his hand to his neck, feeling the space where the absent collar had been. As a speedster, he had particularly suffered from lack of food. Sometimes he wondered if he would be as tall as Wally otherwise.

“Bart! What the hell?”

Speak of the devil.

“Hey, Wally! How do you feel about Wall-meister, Walls, Wall-man, Wall--”

Wally's face was angry as he cut Bart off. “That's my phone, Bart! Note, _my_ phone! Give it back.”

Bart let out a laugh, saying, “But how am I supposed to look at kittens? Your phone is crash!”

“Get your own phone!” Wally hadn't tried to take it back yet, instead looming over him.

“Oh, you're a funny guy. Grandpa says thirteen year olds shouldn't have phones, and he kicked me off the laptop earlier, so...” Bart deliberately scrolled on to the next picture.

Wally reached for his phone, but Bart just moved out of the way.

“Just a minute, just a minute! Oooh, who have you been talking to?”

That was when Wally did the unexpected.

One moment, Bart was fine. The next, Wally had raised his fist and shouted at him.

He didn't even know what. He couldn't even explain why. The phone was dropped instantly, as his hands covered his head, his breath freezing in his lungs. “No!”

Wally seemed to stop in shock. “Whoa man, calm down--”

Bart flipped up to his feet, heart still pounding in his chest. He ran for the door, but was instantly blocked by his grandpa, the Flash. 

And Barry was looking down at him like he'd seen the whole thing.

“Hey, Bart, you okay?”

Bart let out a shaky, vibrating laugh, saying, “Hahahaha, I'm totally crash! Not feeling the mode, nope, not at all, just, you know, play-acting, like children do!”

“Bart, why don't you sit down?” Barry gestured towards the couch he'd just left, where Wally still stood, looking apologetic and holding his phone.

“Grandpa, it's okay, just got startled, you know how demonic Wally looks sometimes—just saw uh, Ghost Rider, and you know how much he looks like that sad-faced guy!” Bart's nerves were all over the place, like fried wires.

Wally glared. “I don't look like Nicholas Cage! What are you talking about?”

Grandpa Barry looked a lot like he wished Iris was home. But she was out for her job, reporting on various events that evening. Instead, he carefully put a hand on Bart's shoulder, and steered him to the couch.

“Come on. We're talking, at least a little.”

Bart sat down unwillingly. He knew he couldn't outrun Barry, and besides which, what would happen after that? He glanced up at Wally and gave him a grin. “I bet he did this to you too at this age, must be such fond memories for you!”

Wally shifted a bit away from the couch. “Don't know what you're talking about, Bart.”

Barry sat a little ways away from Bart, but still on the couch. “Bart, I saw the way you reacted. Most people wouldn't really notice, since it happened fast, but, you know, I'm the Flash, so...”

Bart stared a second. Well, more like a millisecond. “I don't know what you're talking about, Grandpa.”

Barry sighed. He glanced over at Wally, but continued on, “Bart, I know fear when I see it. You know Wally wouldn't hurt you, right?”

Bart didn't immediately answer. To the normal observer, this wasn't much of a hesitation. But Wally and Barry picked up on it instantly.

“Oh my god,” Wally said, “Bart, you don't seriously think...”

“No, nonono, of course not! You're my cousin-type-relative, why would I even think that you could get all moded like that?” Bart said nervously, trying hard to hide the nerves. Of course, it was harder now that he felt like he'd been caught on to like he had been.

Barry was looking at him seriously. “Bart, none of us here would hurt you. Not even Wally, despite you two not always getting along.”

Again, Bart let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Grandpa. Okay, cool, are we done? I have a lot of stuff to do, run some laundry, clean my room, iron my suits--”

“You don't iron spandex,” Wally pointed out, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at Bart. “I don't think you really do know we wouldn't hurt you.”

“What? What are you, crazy? I know that!” Bart said. Technically, he did. He knew in his head that they wouldn't hurt him. Most probably. All right, there was a teeny tiny chance, he couldn't just say 100% they'd never do anything to hurt him, but he could come close. Close was close enough.

“Bart. Blue Beetle told the League that you told him that the future you come from came through a Reach apocalypse. Now, I don't know what happened, but I'm going to guess that you came from a very traumatic time,” Barry said, gently.

“Traumatic?” Bart repeated. This was not a word he was all that familiar with. He seemed to recall it in texts, but it had never held personal meaning for him. 

“You know, painful? Like emotionally and stuff?” Wally said, scratching the back of his head. “Like, to make you react like that?”

“You were going to hit me,” Bart muttered, “That's a normal reaction.”

“I wasn't going to hit you, I was just mad!” Wally insisted, glancing over at Barry.

Barry nodded. “Bart, I've seen that kind of reaction before. I think... whatever you went through, you might have some... trauma. Uh, maybe PTSD? It's something that happens to a lot of crime fighters, and there's nothing to be ashamed of--”

“Okay, wait a second—trauma? _Me_? Like, stuff where you cry and stuff? Ha, that's funny, Grandpa. My mind is crash!” Bart wasn't about to get into this stuff. Frankly, these people from the past could be awfully touchy about feelings. He didn't totally get it, though he definitely had them. 

Where he came from, you _had_ to choke down your true feelings, whether it be to make allies or protect yourself.

That was why he'd had to do such extensive research into the past. That was why he'd created the Impulse persona. Honestly, a name like Impulse (even if chosen in the moment) was a perfect reminder of who he had to be.

Barry was giving him an empathetic look. Even Wally looked somewhat sympathetic.

“Bart, I'm serious. I think you've been through a lot and you have no one to talk to about it. I know we need to be careful about the future and all that, but it wouldn't hurt for you to open up a little.”

Bart stared at Barry. He couldn't be serious. Bart hadn't even been _maimed_. He still had all his parts, only a few scars, and yeah he didn't exactly have a family in the future, but that was pretty normal. 

“Uh... you know what would help? Playing video games! Wally, I'll race you in Mario Kart!”

“Please take this seriously,” Barry sighed.

“Look, I don't have problems! If anyone has PTSD or whatever, it's that Arsenal guy! I mean, he's missing an arm! You should go talk to him.” Bart was nervously tapping his foot, the appendage going a mile a minute.

“It's not a competition, and it's not like if he has it, you don't.” Barry brushed back his blond hair, obviously trying to think of a way to get through to Bart.

“Though, yeah, Arsenal's probably all kinds of fu--”

“Wally!” Barry gave Wally a sharp look.

As Bart didn't know the word fuck.

Bart grinned anyway. “I'm totally crash, Grandpa! Really! I mean, seriously, nothing big happened to me while I was in the future. I didn't die, I wasn't maimed, I wasn't exactly raped--”

“What do you mean 'exactly raped?'” Barry said sharply.

Bart paled. He did not like that tone at all. “Oh, uh, nothing. I mean, I'm not exactly a virgin--”

“You're thirteen!” Wally said, shock obvious in his tone.

Bart blinked. “So?”

Barry buried his face in his hands. He looked like he thought he was in over his head. “Bart, did someone... force you to have sex, of any kind, with them?”

“Well, I didn't like it, it's kinda gross, but you know, I'm okay. She was okay enough, and I mean, I didn't have much else to barter with, and I needed a part for the time machine.” Bart glanced between the two, and was shocked to see the looks on their faces. Wally's seemed consumed with anger, and Barry's looked a lot more empathetic, but still with traces of anger on it.

He should not have even mentioned it. He should not have mentioned sex at all.

“How old was she?” Barry looked like he wanted to grab him, though Bart wasn't entirely sure as to the endgame.

Bart was quiet a moment. He felt strangely like he'd done something wrong, even though this was something that was very everyday for where he came from. People had sex quickly, desperately, often in exchange for some service or item.

He'd been shocked to see sex scenes in movies.

“Bart,” Barry said softly.

Bart muttered, “She was thirty, but that's okay--”

“That's not okay, Bart, that's rape!” Wally snapped at him, seeming furious.

Bart shrank back into the couch cushions for a moment, but then, suddenly, he felt emboldened by his own anger. How dare they look down on him for something that had been necessary, that wasn't exactly wrong in his time?

“Hey! I'd like to see you survive in the future without superspeed and without all your stupid stuff! Try being a thirteen year old orphan, and then--”

“Orphan?” Barry's eyes were wide.

Bart's were too, instantly. He just stared stupidly, mouth opening and closing a moment, trying to come up with an explanation. He'd really let too much slip this time.

Wally was staring too.

“Bart, what exactly--”

“Sorry, gotta go!” Bart said, at a superspeed that Wally probably couldn't even pick up.

He was out the door in an instant, and he knew Grandpa Barry could catch up with him, but he just had to _run_ , had to get away before he started crying or spilling everything.

He could not spill everything. If they had even an inkling of how horrible the future was, what would happen? He was supposed to covertly fix everything, the key word being covert! 

He ran without much thought, all over the world, across an ocean or two, one long line, only deviated from when something was in the way.

Finally, he stopped at a cliffside in Europe. He could see the twinkling lights of a city in the distance, and the gasps in his breathing, he realized, were not from running.

For the first time since he was a small child, the tears started to run down his face.

For everything he'd lost. Everything he'd never had.

Everything he'd probably fucked up now.

He had ruined _everything_.

And all he could do was sit there and bawl like a small child.


	2. Chapter 2

Bart had to have been there for about an hour, until the tears had dried up. He absently thought about the wasted fluids, the way that it could lead to collapse. It was easier to think on physical aspects than it was to think about how he'd screwed everything up.

He still had to save the world. That was still on his shoulders. And he had no idea if he was doing it right.

Well, the Flash was alive, thanks to him. But how did he even know that saved the future? It wasn't like he could send a note into the future and ask. Time travel was a very limited deal.

He thought about going into hiding. But, he knew too little about this world to really know how to do that, and he suspected the League could find him easily.

It was about when he was entering a second stage of crying that he felt the slight breeze of another speedster showing up. He scrubbed at his face immediately, turning away from the sound. “How'd you find me?”

“To be fair, it wasn't easy. It took about an hour,” Barry said, but his voice was gentle. There was a whir of motion, and he changed out of his Flash suit and into civvies. It made sense, since that was what Bart was wearing.

The whole secret identity thing was starting to make a little more sense to Bart. Well, at least, he could respect it.

“Just leave me alone, okay, Grandpa?” Bart pulled his knees up to his chest. He didn't want to be seen by Barry Allen right then. Barry Allen had never had to trade himself for parts. He'd never had to steal, fight—and come close to losing—for his survival. He probably thought of him as this greasy little rat.

Here in the past, they didn't get these things. 

Barry sat down next to him anyways. A warm hand gently landed on his shoulder, as Barry said, “Bart, come on. Talk to me.”

Bart didn't look at him. “Bout what? Cause I think the Central City High School basketball team is doing really well at the finals right now...” His attempt at his Impulse persona was weak, cracked, like him.

“Bart. Please, I just want to help you. You can tell me anything, and I won't tell anyone else, I swear.” Barry's hand tightened a bit.

Bart couldn't help it, he flinched. It was too close to his neck, too ready to be tight and shock him.

Barry's hand fell away immediately. His gaze felt like it was searching, while he wondered what he'd done. “Hey... Bart, you can trust me. I would never hurt you.”

“Don't you get it, I can't trust anyone! I'm from the _future_ , I could ruin everything,” Bart burst out, turning to glare at his grandpa. The eyes he saw made the anger die down: blue, wide, shocked. Hurt.

“Then why did you come back?” Barry asked softly. “Why did you really come here?”

“Well, you're not going to believe I'm a tourist,” Bart sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees. “Grandpa... You're not alive where I come from. Nobody... all the metas, they're...”

“Dead? But then--”

“No, not dead. Well, a lot of them. But...” Bart hesitated. What if he ruined everything? What if the future came and there were giant brain suckers ruling over everything?

Then he shrugged. It couldn't get much worse, could it?

“The metahumans are contained. As one of them... I am—was, contained. We all, the metas, wore collars that nullified our abilities. I couldn't even run before I came back here, not _really_.” Bart couldn't bear to look at his grandpa. He stared at his shoes, which were very nice compared to what he often got in the future.

Which was his past. Which was confusing.

Barry put a hand around his arm, purposely leaving plenty of space between the touch and his neck. “Bart, you mentioned being an orphan. Is... is the whole Allen family gone, in the future?”

Bart was quiet. He hugged his knees closer to his chest. Then he made a sort of lopsided grin. “You think if there were any left, they would have let me take an experimental, untested trip to the past?”

He could have died, it was true. He could have had a malfunction, been instantly fried, transported to the wrong time, any number of things... and yet he'd done it anyway. The stakes were too high to refuse. Hell, it had been partially his idea.

Barry held him tighter. He didn't say anything, which was unnerving. Bart wanted to look at him, but he was a little scared of what he would see. Compassion, or disgust? Some sort of regret at having ever met Bart?

“Bart, it's going to be okay. You're not going to be alone again, I promise,” Barry said, his grip not slackening. “It's... it's been a bit weird, getting to know you as my grandson, I will admit. I would have never expected to meet you in this time of my life. But, you know, I'm really glad Don will go on to have as good a son as you.”

Blinking rapidly, Bart felt the warmth of the embrace. He hadn't been held like this in a long time, at least not in a way that wasn't for warmth purposes. “Grandpa? I'm not a good son. I'm,” his voice broke, cracked a little, “I don't even know my dad, not really. I... I gave them away. My dad and Aunt Dawn were hiding their abilities, and when I was a kid—like, four—I ran too fast. They caught us all. Well, you... you were already gone, but I—my dad, Aunt Dawn, they fought to keep me safe, and...”

“Kid. Bart, that's not your fault. It'll never be your fault, understand? You were too little to understand the risks.”

“But I knew. I just thought, 'I wanna run,' and so I did. I knew I wasn't supposed to. _I knew_.” By now, Bart was crying again, and this time, Barry pulled him close, into a proper embrace. His face was buried in his grandpa's shoulder.

“You were four. You can't blame a four year old for anything, Bart.” Barry's voice was soft, a little pained.

“You can in my time,” Bart said, voice a little muffled but not really wanting to move. He sniffled, shutting his eyes. “I got them killed. That's why I volunteered; not much left for me in the future anyway.”

Barry held him tightly. He didn't say anything for a while, one hand rubbing up and down his back in a way that was extremely, almost painfully, comforting.

Bart shuddered. He wasn't used to being held like this. But he still held tightly, arms wrapped around Barry's body. “I'm sorry... I'm sorry...”

And he was hiccuping. He tried to calm them, but he just hiccuped louder.

Barry gave him a tight squeeze. “You don't have to be sorry. You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault, and no one blames you. Bart... Iris and I, the Garricks, your teammates, we all care about you. You can't let the past, well, your past, hurt you this way. You are _good_ , Bart. No matter what happened when you were small.”

That was it. Bart cried like a baby, trying, in between shaking breaths, to insist it had been his fault, that Barry didn't understand, but every time he tried words, Barry would rub his back and insist,

“Bart, you're good. You are good.”

He'd always said he was 'one of the good guys.' He'd never truly believed it, far too cynical to truly think things were simply good or bad. That had been Impulse. That had been the persona.

When he'd calmed down, and Barry was holding him gently, he heard his grandpa say something.

“Bart? You know how you told me some stuff that shocked me?”

Bart nodded, cringing a little. “You don't understand, Grandpa, I had to get that part--”

Barry held him tighter. “Bart. Don't ever let anyone touch you below the belt again, okay? Not at your age. Promise me that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bart promised. He did not like sex anyway, could do without it entirely. It was one disgusting, invasive, sticky mess, and besides, he was in the past. Like he would need to barter with it again.

“You're going to talk to a counselor; I know someone who's trained to deal with superheroes and all kinds of crazy stuff...okay?”

Bart blinked. “But we just talked about it.... right?” These people from the past were confusing. Now he wanted him to talk to someone else?

Barry sighed. “Kid, you've got a lot to work through. More than I can help with—don't get me wrong, though, we can talk whenever you want, and I will always be there for you. I think this counselor can really help you, though, better than I can.”

Bart nodded slowly. “But what if they tell everyone?”

Barry smiled softly. “Counselors are bound by law to keep what you say private. Trust me, I've been to one before; I wouldn't steer you wrong.”

Well, that much was true. Bart realized he was shaking. He'd done a lot of crying, for the first time in years. He found himself shaky as Barry stood, getting him on his feet.

Barry steadied him. “You hungry? We can pop right in and get something; I'm sure they have a lot of good food here.”

Bart nodded.

“And Bart?”

Bart looked up, searching Barry's face for anything unexpected.

But he was just smiling. “Nice to meet the real you.”

Bart gave a half-smile back, scratching the back of his neck. “...yeah. Thanks, Grandpa.”

Bart acted a bit differently after that. He was a little less hyper around the team, but at home... the trickster persona was quite gone. He proved to be serious, very interested in science, very intelligent, and of course, a constant help around the house.

And the counselor turned out to be a godsend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made stuff up. Hope you enjoyed it! It was kinda hard working on this one, hence it took so long! I would've liked to make this a three-parter, but I think it really is just a two-parter. :) Expect more Impulse stuff from me in the future, hopefully!

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be a two or three parter, depending.


End file.
